Warning: Uh one little swear word? Um. Sort of making out? I don't think this warrant an M rate, right? Oh beside that there might be a little quote that offend you, so please do tell me if you know which one and if you are offended so I can remove it. It's not important for the story, I just thought it fits the mood that's all. I apologize beforehand if you happened to be offended. Oh and it's sort of bitter angst...? But I guess it should be expected from me by now. Oh. And jerk!Eric I guess. 

Today.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, before exhaling small puffs of smoke into the crisp and cold night air. The sweetness of nicotine filled his lungs, the poison he had been addicted for too many years. Funny—he was killing himself slowly with every inhalation of the smoke, but he never had an intention to stop. Another drag, as he stared at the cloud covered stars beyond the lights of skyscrapers—how could such huge spheres of flaming gas be dimmed by artificial man-made lamps? Hilarious.

Everything was funny today, because this morning he suddenly woke up with a realization. Sighing because the fire of the cigarette was getting too close to his face for comfort, he took it from between his lips with his long slender fingers, pressing the lighted end against the ashtray. He needed another one because he was celebrating, he made excuses for himself. Taking another cigarette from the packet and lighting it with the Zippo from inside his shirt pocket, feeling satisfied as another dose of smoke invaded his respiration system. He thought of getting a can of cold beer as well, but he was too lazy to walk to his fridge. Choosing to walk to the edge of his balcony instead—he rested his forearms on the metal railing, tapping his fingers softly to let the ash of the fresh cig fell down to the distant ground below, watching the lights of the apartment building across his.

Was he home tonight? He wondered. Or was he somewhere with his special of the week? He let out a little chuckle at the thought, emptiness filled his chest—but at least it was better than pain, wasn’t it? How long had it been since they started this? How many years? He had stopped counting many years ago, letting his emotions blindly lead him on a tight leash.

Not anymore.

He smiled into the night sky—remembering, letting his mind wandered to the times long past—hopefully for the last time. Moments flashed by in his memory, quickly passing like blurred clips of old movies. Each little scene evoked a weird tingling at the bottom of his stomach, stabbing his chest. They said old memories would pass by in the mind of a dying person—perhaps now he was dying too then. His smile was getting wider—he never knew that dying could make him feel so liberated.

Feelings.

Those were what he was trying to kill, specifically all of his about him—his best friend. He could feel that they were slowly dying successfully—every painful stab to his chest was the signs of his triumphs. He felt like laughing out loud—but tears started to form at the corner of his eyes as he was stuck in a moment of his destroyed emotion. He was recalling his sweet kisses, but there was always bitterness behind the sweetness, and it was getting too overpowering for his taste. He wiped the tears before they had the chance to fall down to his cheeks—only now he realized that he was not worthy of his tears. He couldn't let a moment of weakness approaching him or he would get stuck again with no way out. Besides, it was a moment for happiness to be rid of him, not sadness—his bitter laughter rang in the quiet night.

He took a long last inhale of smoke from his shortening cigarette before flicking the stub into the ashtray, adding to the small pile on it—watching as the remnants of the fire was slowly being extinguished by the cold wind.

Was this the end?

***

Today.

He woke up this morning with a sudden clarity in his mind—as if a thick fog had been lifted off his cloudy mind. It was a strange feeling, the emptiness, the air out of his lungs. He sat up and stared at the wall opposite his bed, smiling. Perhaps today was the day he could leave it all behind—yes, this cursed life he had been living under his spell.

His world had been revolved on him—if he was the earth, he himself would surely be the moon. How sad was his existence in this world, this ed-up lifestyle that he had. Was it because he was his first everything? But a lot of people could let go of their first love, so why couldn’t him? He always looked at him as if he was the sun and he was the sunflower, searching for his light.

He loved him—oh yes, he did. He was the reason for all the laws he had broken. Only for his sake, he had been tangled in an intricate web of lies and deceptions, making up endless excuses to hide himself, delivering one perjury after another. He smiled mysteriously when people asked him whether he had a lover—because he had, only that his other half never wanted him to be the one. The woes of unrequited love, he had felt them all—yet he never had the courage to give up. Perhaps, perhaps this time he could come clean? His parents had been getting restless, trying to play matchmaker for their oldest son, but he always found a way to get out. No girls could ever replace him—yes, he would sacrifice all the love he could have had only for him. It was weird, because he knew the object of his affection never felt the same—and he never would no matter how long he waited. 

He had chained his heart so tight and put the biggest lock he could find, but somehow this morning he was able to pick the lock and open it. It was not enough that he was always in his conscious thoughts, even his dreams would be haunted with him—his face even in the deepest nooks and crannies of his subconscious mind. Usually, his mind would fly to him first thing in the morning—when he woke up in his own bed, he would wake up burning in jealousy when thinking about which random lucky girl found herself in his bed that morning. But the worst was the mornings when he woke up in the other’s bed—because he didn’t want to leave as if he was some needy slag.

But today he woke up feeling free.

He got out from his bed, throwing his blanket on the bed with glee. He wouldn’t fuss about making up his bed today, not on a day like this. He walked to his kitchen, grabbing a cup and started making coffee—humming all the way. Love songs—but not for him, never again. He drank a glass of water, refreshing his dry throat before